No Jacket Required
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: Dean in a school boy uniform!  The boys are on a hunt at a exclusive private school.  Dean just can't keep his mouth shut. Teen!Chesters. Spanking of a teenager, if you don't like, please don't read. PG


Title: No Jacket Required.

Characters: Sam, Dean, John and OC.

Rating: PG

xxx

You have got to be kiddin' me?"

Dean looked at his father like the man had just announced he was taking up competitive figure skating.

"It's a job Dean, like any other. We just need a deeper cover."

Dean shook his head.

"There has to be another way. C'mon."

John shrugged. "If you can think of one, I'll consider it."

Sam just smiled.

xxx

Dean growled. Almost as low as his father. This sucked on so many levels.

He looked in the mirror. Butter colored button down. Maroon and yellow striped tie. Navy blazer and fucking khaki pants.

He thought he might just start blowing chunks.

There was no way he was leaving this bathroom.

"Dean, get your ass in gear."

"Daaddd." Okay, he was whining, but there ought to be a law.

It didn't even matter that Sam looked worse in khaki shorts.

At least Sam could wear a polo.

Dean took a deep breath. He could not believe that he actually considered a polo shirt a better idea than…well than anything.

"I'm not comin' out, Dad. I _can't_ come out."

John Winchester was not a patient man, Dean knew this, so even the small wait before his father spoke was impressive.

"Let me offer you some incentive, Dean. Either you get your ass out here or I'm comin' in and you are not gonna like me comin' in."

Dean considered it. He really did. But the truth was his Dad would come in. Pick the lock, take the door off the hinges, or maybe just knock it down. It was inevitable so Dean's stalwart stand would be for nothing.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Dad arched a brow in Dean's direction. "What's your problem kiddo? I think you clean up pretty good."

Sam just laughed.

Luckily, despite being an old dude, Dad was pretty fast because he caught Dean in mid air just before he killed his kid brother. It turned out those school blazers were pretty damn tough.

Dad shook Dean once. "Knock if off."

Normally that would have been enough, a rough shake, a warning glance. Dean would later think it was the tie. It must have been cutting off circulation to his brain or something.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kick your ass!" Dean bellowed at Sam.

"Dean, stand down." John had his neck via the school blazer, his body firmly between his oldest and youngest.

"Sammy, you better run." Dean growled, struggling futilely against his father. But Sam just grinned even bigger and then because Dad was facing Dean he flipped Dean the bird. Dean surged against Dad, never a good move for a couple of reasons. The first of which was that Dean's sixteen-year old body wouldn't have moved John Winchester anyhow. Secondly, it just pissed Dad off.

"_Dean." _

When Dad spoke like that, all gravel and smoke there was nothing to do but listen. Dean stilled but continued to glare at Sammy.

"This is your uniform for the next month or so deal."

And with that, the matter was settled. Dean barely concealed a humpfh.

"Dean…you better watch that mouth of yours. I don't need to be called down the office in this school because you can't keep a civil tongue in your head. And Sam, you keep your gestures to yourself." Dean didn't know how dad had figured out about Sammy's one fingered salute, the man really might have eyes in the back of his head. "I swear boys, if I have to mediate a fight between you two…" Dad let the implied threat linger. Dean knew that implication was worse than a real threat because an open ended threat left a lot to the imagination. The old man could get real creative sometimes.

Dad lowered his voice and softened it a bit. He released Dean from his impromptu hold, smoothed his jacket and tightened up the Windsor tie at his throat. A casual touch but it calmed Dean.

"Look boys, Ashford's a good school. This might be your one and only chance at seeing how the other half lives." Dad smiled a bit at that but then dropped his voice. Steady, solid and no nonsense. This was something the boys needed to hear. " We don't even know if it is our kind of gig. It may be haunted but maybe not. All the normal rules apply to a possible haunting. I don't want anybody engaging in this spirit – if there is one. " Dad cut his eyes to Dean, the meaning crystal. "This is recon, all the way. So Sammy, you keep an ear to the ground in the lower school and Dean, you in the upper school. I'll be posing as the gym teacher and I should be able to move freely between both schools. Dean, the chances are higher that if there is a haunting, it's in the upper school. There is at least one violent death there in recent history. But both schools have been having unexplained electrical problems. The details though, are sketchy at best. This is deep cover boys. The Headmaster, Hezekiah Cummings is the only one who knows the truth, so keep your noses clean."

Dean laughed then, it couldn't be helped. "HEADMASTER! Awe, shit, Dad the HEADMASTER." Dean's eyes glinted with merriment.

Sam frowned. "It's a perfectly usable term, Dean. Kind of like a principal."

Dean watched as Dad rolled his eyes. "What? You gotta admit…Headmaster sounds kind of naughty. And his name is Cummings. Headmaster Hez Cummings?" Dean lost it then, laughing so hard he literally had to wipe a tear from his eyes. _Oh dear God, please don't make me have to address that man as Headmaster Hez Cummings._

Sam turned to his father. "Do you see, Dad? Do you see what I have to deal with on a routine basis? It is like he is eight or something."

Dad did kind of smile though and ruffled his hand through Sam's hair. "Yeah, your brother has always been a little low brow huh? And Dean, let's just keep that kind of comment to ourselves okay? Cummings is an old buddy of mine. We fought together and just so you know, he was my Lieutenant in 'Nam. He never put any of us boys through anything he wouldn't do first. He is a good man. Just because he's now the headmaster of an exclusive boys school it doesn't mean he shouldn't be respected. "

"Yes, sir." Dean sputtered, then backtracked through his father's words. "Did you say boys school? You mean I have to be dressed like this." Dean motioned briefly at his uniform. "And I don't even get to see chicks in plaid skirts?"

John shook his head. "As hard as it is to imagine that this hunt doesn't have anything to do with your libido, trust me, son that is the case. So…yes, it's a boys' school. Only boys, so you are gonna have to keep any plaid skirted school girl fantasies to yourself."

Dean grabbed at his backpack with more venom than was absolutely necessary and threw one strap over his shoulder. Sam did the same but opted for both straps. "Damn." Dean mumbled as he followed his father out the door. "That was the one thing I was looking forward to."

xxx

Dad parked the Impala in the back. _Faculty parking. _Even his girl looked out of place surrounded by Bmers and Volvos and an occasional sports car. Thanks to Headmaster Cummings, Dean smirked again, _that was never gonna get old_, they were already enrolled with a computer printed schedule in their hands.

Sam was already trotting to the lower school, book bag bouncing against his back. Dean shook his head. Sammy looked like such a geek with that damn yellow polo and khaki shorts. Not that he had any room to talk.

Dean tried one last time. "Dad, please…anything, anyplace else."

"You got this Dean. Just keep your head down and your eyes open. " Dean nodded and headed toward the front of the school. "And Dean?" Dean stopped and turned to face his father, "I don't want any trouble."

"Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Dean… this school is tough, they don't tolerate any bullshit and I expect you to behave."

"Yes, sir."

His father headed toward the faculty entrance and Dean headed toward the massive pillars that stood sentinel like on either side of the huge brick building. A moment later he stepped into the foyer of the school instantly surrounded by khaki pants, striped ties and fucking blue jackets.

It was going to be a long, long day.

xxx

Dean hated school, really and if homeroom was any indication of how the rest of his day was going to be, this particular school really sucked. Not only was he stuck wearing the uniform from hell but the kids were snots. Then to top everything off he had the homeroom teacher from hell, Mr. Bainesworth. Physically Bainesworth was not much to talk about – just a little taller than Dean and weedy thin but he was on of those teachers who instantly hated him. Not that Dean could really blame him – Dean had that effect on authority figures.

And Mr. Bainesworth really _thought_ he was an authority figure. He really _believed _that he was intimidating. Dean shook his head at that one. His father was John Winchester, Dean and intimidation had met.

It all started with something as innocuous as the fact that Dean had showed up for homeroom 10 minutes late. It shouldn't have been surprising, Dean had things to do besides who the hell cared anyway? Obviously, Bainesworth.

"This, Mr. Winchester, is not the way to make a stellar impression on your first day at a new school."

"Sorry." But he wasn't. He just settled himself in the back of the classroom among the sea of navy blazers and striped ties.

"Do not make a habit of this Mr. Winchester."

Dean grunted. His dad so owed him for this. Really. He hoped to God they either found the ghost quickly or found out it was a bust - because this place? This man? It was gonna kill him.

xxx

"Mr. Winchester." The ruler slapped down hard on Dean's desk. Dean jumped in a completely non-cool way, his heart instantly racing. The rest of the class giggled. Dean's face flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the moron class and their laughing, more the fact that Bainesworth had managed to sneak up on him. How did he luck out with having the dickwad in homeroom and again at the end of the day in History?

"Are we disturbing your little daydreams?"

"Uh, no."

"You would think being the new boy, you would be on your best behavior."

"You would think." Dean agreed.

"Participation in my class counts toward a significant portion of your grade."

"Really." Dean tried to look concerned.

"Well, see me after class and we can discuss how best we can encourage your participation and perhaps change that attitude."

Great, the attitude adjustment speech and Dean was only day one into the new school.

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall and loosened his tie. He hoped to hell dad had managed to come up with some solid info because Dean had come up with squat.

The rest of the class was a boring as the beginning but Dean managed to sit though it without tormenting Bainesworth anymore. The last bell of the day rang and it was all Dean could do not to run with it.

He stuffed his books in his book bag and carried it to Bainesworth's desk. The man was scribbling on the blackboard with this back to Dean. Dean cleared his throat in what he felt was an entirely respectful manner.

"Uh, Mr. Bainesworth? You wanted to see me?"

Bainesworth continued to write. "Patience is a virtue, Mr. Winchester."

"So is timeliness, Mr. Bainesworth." Dean mentioned as casually as he could.

Bainesworth turned around and narrowed his eyes at Dean. "I have found, Mr. Winchester, that children who speak out of turn are destined to become thugs and ingrates."

"That so?" Dean commented.

"You, Mr. Winchester, are one of those children. Your attitude is atrocious and you are severely lacking in any type of decorum. I will not have my class made fun of for your amusement. You will arrive promptly everyday to both homeroom and my class. You will actively participate in assignments and class discussion. You will come to class prepared and in your complete uniform, that means this-" Bainesworth reached toward Dean and flipped his loosened tie with one boney forefinger, "will remain appropriately knotted at your throat. You will treat me with the respect that I deserve or there will be severe repercussions. "

Dean just stood there trying to wrap his head around this man. "So you are mad because I was late in homeroom, because your lame lecture couldn't hold my attention and because my _tie is loose_?"

"That is IT!" Bainesworth slammed his ever present ruler down hard against his desk. Once again, Dean flinched. Fuck the ghost, if anyone needed to be put to a good salt and burn it was Bainesworth.

"Assume the position."

"What?"

"Drop your book bag. Turn around and place your hands on the desk. I will show you how insubordinate boys are dealt with in my classroom."

"Dude…" Dean sputtered. "What do you think you are going to do?"

"I'm going to demonstrate to you what Harold Bainesworth does to naughty little boys who do not follow the rules and refuse to listen to instruction. A few harsh stripes with this ruler and you will certainly understand that I will not tolerate this type of concuct."

_Naughty little boys? Wait_, _was the man really going to hit him with a fucking ruler?_

Shit. He didn't see that one coming. Bainesworth was certifiable, that much was a given but other than storming out of his classroom, Dean couldn't figure out how to avoid it. If he left in a huff, Bainesworth would tell Cummings. Although Cummings knew what Dean was here for, he wouldn't be able to let Bainesworth know. Cummings would be forced to act on Dean's "atrocious behavior" himself, and that would just piss Dad off.

Then because he couldn't figure out anything else Dean scowled and said, "I don't think my father will appreciate your method of discipline, Mr. Bainesworth." Dean believed it too. John Winchester had no problem tanning anyone's ass but it was the kind of thing he preferred to handle himself. Dean expected that random spanking of his kids would not go over well.

"Your father is the new physical education instructor, am I right?"

Dean nodded. This was such a clusterfuck.

"Well, he is more than well versed with the type of punishment that Ashford delivers to children who disobey. You should feel lucky that this is just a taste…something for you to mull around in your brain tonight. Hopefully, between that and your sore bottom, you will come to class tomorrow with a sufficiently changed outlook on things."

_Sore bottom?_ Dean had just about had it with the stupid little boy shit. It he was gonna get his ass handed to him, fine, but was it necessary to try to humiliate him as well? Obviously that was the case, but what Bainesworth didn't realize was that he could give a shit less. It only made him angrier and an angry Dean didn't always think clearly.

"I doubt it." Dean remarked, carefully keeping his voice as sarcastic as possible. He wanted Bainesworth to know exactly how he felt about this.

Dean glared hard at Bainesworth, turned around and planted his hands on his desk. Bainesworth reached forward hands skimming Dean's ass briefly as he lifted the navy jacket, flipping it up his back. The guy was as skeevy as all get out.

Dean never heard the whistle of wood, he didn't really expect to but the sudden hot stripe of pain across his ass was certainly noticeable enough. Stripe number two laid directly next to the first and caused him to suck a sharp breath through his teeth. There was a moment's break and then the third slap came down hard, criss crossing the first two. Dean didn't move, didn't change his position just waited for another white-hot stripe of pain. It didn't come.

"That is all Winchester." Dean stood as nonchalantly as possible. "Please make sure you show your father this communication slip and have him sign it for tomorrow. This explains exactly what you were punished for and exactly how." Bainesworth handed Dean a pink slip filled out in carefully written longhand, detailing Dean's transgressions and subsequent…_rulering_? The asshole was obviously planning on whipping him no matter what.

"You are dismissed Mr. Winchester."

Dean folded it in half and dropped it in his coat pocket. He grabbed his book bag and stalked out of the classroom.

He hoped to hell there was a ghost here, more importantly he hoped the sonofabitch had something against creepy History teachers with power complexes.

xxx

Dean met his father in the gym office. Sam was already there comparing notes on the day and working on his homework.

"Why so late? Your brother has been here for twenty minutes. " Dad looked up from his own notes, underlining a particularly interesting entry.

Dean shook his head. "You do not wanna know."

John settled back in the leather chair and rubbed a hand over his beard. "Oh, I think I wanna know."

Dean looked over at Sam who was pointedly ignoring him and then at his father. "Did you know this place believes in corporal punishment?"

"Teachers can hit kids at this school?" Sam asked, suddenly wanting to be involved in the conversation.

John glared hard at Dean. "Yes, I did and yes they can but I didn't think it would be a problem. I mean, Christ Dean, you've only been here one day. How much trouble could you get into?"

"Apparently a lot! Don't you think you could have _told_ me! That you could have told _us_." Dean couldn't believe that his father was aware of this and allowed it to happen.

John stood, eyes dark with anger. "I thought that my discussion with you prior to stepping into this school would have been sufficient to deter any poor behavior on your part. I'm pretty sure I let you know exactly what my expectations were. I didn't think I had to back up my orders with the punishment policy of the school!"

"No, no you didn't have to back anything up – your orders were clear – but it would've been nice to know. "

"Maybe…but if you followed my orders then there wouldn't have been a problem one way or another right?"

Dean took a deep breath. His father was right about that. He _had_ told him to keep his nose clean. He'd specifically told him to stay out of trouble and that the school was tough with it's discipline.

"Yes, sir."

Dean handed Dad the communication slip. "You are supposed to sign it and I have to give it back to Bainesworth."

John glanced at it. "Is all this true?"

Dean tried not to roll his eyes. "Well sort of…but he is a total dick." Dean caught a glimpse of his father's look, "I mean – he's an unreasonable person, Dad."

"So you weren't late, disrespectful and out of uniform?"

Dean struggled with the explanation. "No…I mean yes, yes I was but not like he's said!"

John took a deep breath. "Okay, son. I believe you. Maybe Bainesworth is a little over zealous. I haven't met the guy yet. But do me a favor, leave him the hell alone. Do your work. Yes, sir and no, sir him. Make him think his punishment worked and that you are toeing the line okay? Do not aggravate him. I do not want another communication slip. We need to play the part in this story down to the very last line. We don't know what, how or even _if_ Ashford is haunted. We don't know who may or may not be involved. Not blowing our cover will keep us all safe and I don't want to see one of you boys hurt because you are unable to follow my directions. Are we on the same page here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now take a look at these notes and tell me what you think might be going on."

Dean settled uneasily on the chair next to his father's desk and reviewed the data his father, Sam and he had collected during the day. God how he hated this school. The only thing he could say was he doubted there were any unexplained deaths around here.

Just going to this place was explanation enough.

Xxxx

"I can't believe that a teacher actually spanked you, Dean."

"Shut up."

It was late, he was tired plus his ass still hurt.

"Did it hurt?" In typical Sam fashion, he wasn't planning on giving up until he had gotten the information he wanted.

"He hit me with a fucking ruler, Sam…yes it hurt. Do you want me to find a damn ruler and whale on your ass with it?"

"No, of course not…I just was wonderin' s'all."

Dean punched his pillow and tried to find a comfortable position.

"Well, your quest for knowledge is over. Go to sleep."

There was blessed quiet for a moment and Dean thought that maybe it had worked.

"So how did it feel compared to Dad's whuppins?"

Dean sighed, his brother was nothing if not tenacious, better to answer his dumb questions and let it go.

"I dunno, not as bad I guess. It was only three swats. Plus when Dad decides to tan our asses he makes sure that he doesn't have to lick us twice for the same thing. I mean he puts some _effort_ into it. Bainesworth was just showing a little teeth is all. He thinks he's hot shit, but he's got nowhere the kinda swing that Dad has. And Dad makes me cry. I wouldna cried for Bainesworth if he cut my fucking dick off."

It should feel weird talking about crying during a butt whipping but this was Sam and Sam had been on the business side of his father's hand on more than one occasion. Both boys knew that crying from ass whippings doled out by John Winchester was expected.

"That's probably 'cause we love Dad and no matter how angry I am at getting a spanking, or even how wrong I think it is, I know that Dad's right. I mean, I don't think that kids should get spankings at all. Honestly, I hate it. But Dad would never do it unless he felt he had to. That makes it different I guess. Plus, well, it's Dad."

"Jeesh, Sam… do you have to analyze everything? I mean maybe old Bainesworth is just a wuss and couldn't out whup a seven-year-old girl. I dunno. But I don't intend on going through it again, I tell you what."

"Good, 'cause I get the impression that Dad will be less forgiving if Bainesworth punishes you again. "

"Yeah, you're probably right." His father had been crystal clear about what he needed to do to make pretty with Bainesworth.

Sam rolled over in his bed. Dean couldn't see him very well in the darkened room, but he knew his brother was facing the wall. "Well, I'm sorry it happened."

"Yeah, me too Samantha. My young childhood psyche has been irreparably damaged. Just knock off the late night girl talk or Dad's gonna come in and really swat both of us. My recently tenderized ass doesn't need that."

Sam snorted softly in the dark. "Kay, Dean…goodnight."

Dean rolled over himself and went to sleep.

xxx

Dean tightened the damn Windsor knot at his throat, brushed a hand down the crappy navy jacket and walked into Ashford for the second day in a row.

He really hated this.

He slid into his seat a minute before the homeroom bell rung. Bainesworth looked up from his desk with a smug expression.

"Mr. Winchester? Do you have your communication slip from yesterday?"

There was a chuckle from the kid next to him and if Dean wasn't being on his best behavior it would have been so satisfying to plow a fist to his face.

"Yes, sir." Dean stood and walked the gauntlet to the teacher's desk. There was no doubt that Bainesworth was a sadistic fuck.

He dropped the signed slip on his desk. "Excellent Mr. Winchester, it is good to see that you have decided to take my instruction to heart."

"Yes, sir." Dean turned and sauntered back to his seat. He didn't give a shit that the entire class knew he got his ass handed to him yesterday, he didn't give a shit about Bainesworth.

_Eyes on the prize Winchester._

With a week of covert investigations under their belts, the Winchesters were no closer to determining if Ashford was even haunted. Maybe it was the lack of progress that made Dean antsy or maybe it was just Bainesworth, but homeroom was torture and quite possibly the worst 10 minutes of his life. He hadn't been late today but he hadn't been prepared – some bullshit crap about having sex education permission slips turned in.

Bainesworth had spent eight of the ten minutes ranting about Dean and his lack of preparedness. He dressed him down with a flourish and punctuated the lecture with his ever present ruler and a sharp slap to Dean's desk.

Dean didn't even flinch anymore.

Something kind of snapped though because Dean turned to the moron boy next to him as Bainesworth walked away and whispered low.

"I dunno why he's so worried about me and sex ed, he's probably the only one in this fuckin' class that doesn't know where to stick his dick."

Bainesworth turned back to Dean, eyes smoldering with rage…so angry that for a moment Dean thought that maybe, just maybe, he had given the guy a heart attack. He could see a neck vein neck bulging and his face was a color of red not normally found in the natural world. Except in maybe tomatoes or perhaps Dean's ass after today.

"You!" Bainesworth pointed a nobby finger in Dean's direction. "Collect your educational materials and remove yourself from this class at once. " He snatched a communication slip off of his desk and hastily scrawled a note on it. "Go straight to Headmaster Cummings. We shall see how he feels about this little episode."

Dean didn't really gulp, in fact, he thought that maybe he couldn't swallow at all.

Shit.

Dad was gonna kill him.

xxx

For all the fancy that Ashford had, paintings of famous alumni and leather backed chairs, the headmaster's office was not much different than any other principal's office. At least not while waiting outside to go in. There were plain wooden chairs lined up against the wall – Dean labeled it in his mind as Death Row. He settled behind a boy of about 10 who looked like he might just pass out. The kid's face was whiter then, well a ghost, and Dean couldn't help be notice his lower lip trembling with effort of not crying. He was wearing the lower school uniform, khaki shorts and the yellow polo.

The kid reminded him so much of Sammy that Dean just had to say something.

"What are you in for?" Dean smiled when he said it, tried to put a little levity into the situation.

"Incomplete assignments." The boys spoke softly, his voice upper class Brit all the way.

Dean nodded in sympathy and then shocked himself by offering his hand. "Name's Dean Winchester."

The boy took it gratefully. "Michael Chelsey, nice to meet you. Are you Mr. Winchester's oldest boy?"

Dean nodded. It was still so odd that his dad was the damn gym teacher. Dean wasn't used to having his father so well known in any school he ever attended.

"Your father seems to be a man who truly values physical education."

Dean snorted, "Well, you know…gym teacher."

That caused Michael to offer a gentle smile. "Well said."

Dean grinned then spoke conspiratorially, "So are you really gonna get in that much trouble for incomplete assignments? I mean you did them right, you just didn't get it all done."

"True, but it's my third time. I'm incorrigible. The Headmaster was very clear that he would not tolerate this again." The boy sniffled once, barely keeping it together.

It wasn't right…this wasn't right. The poor kid was a nervous wreck just because he hadn't completed his fucking assignment. No matter what Dad said, this Headmaster Cummings had to be a sonofabitch to make a little kid cry before he even saw him.

The secretary picked up her phone and motioned to the boy.

"The Headmaster will see you now, Michael."

Michael stood, grabbed his book bag and headed toward the big wooden door that separated the outside office from Cummings personal office. The kid tapped twice and then went in.

Dean sat seething on the chair. Something about scared little kids that always pushed his buttons.

He couldn't hear everything clearly through the door but soft murmured voices. At least Cummings wasn't a screamer. Distinctly though after a few minutes he heard the sharp smack of leather on ass. Having been familiar with _that _particular sound, Dean didn't think the kid was getting it bare but it didn't sound good.

It also didn't seem to last that long because a few moments later Michael came back out of the door, eyes red and clutching a Kleenex. He nodded to Dean, trying to be a big kid and then left quickly.

The secretary motioned for Dean.

"Headmaster Cummings will see you now, Dean."

Dean stood, wiped a suddenly sweaty hand down his pants, grabbed his own book bag and headed to the office. He knocked politely and then stepped in to meet his doom.

The office was nice. Really nice with richly paneled walls and leather chairs. Everything neat and tidy and decidedly masculine. Oddly enough, it wasn't pretentious . It was the kind of office that spoke volumes regarding the man who sat behind the desk.

Cummings motioned to Dean and pushed back a paper he was signing.

"Good morning, Dean. Nice to finally meet you."

Dean, at long last, got a good look at his father's old lieutenant. The man wasn't as large as his father but he was definitely fighting slim without the extra pounds that civilian life tended to put on a man. He was bald with a hawkish nose and laugh lines around his eyes. Eyes that were so startling blue that Dean had to do a double take. Cummings rose, smoothed down his jacket with a quick tug.

"Good morning, sir. " It came out easily, Headmaster Cummings exuded military. Recognizing it was one of those things that came with being the son of a former Marine.

"So – I take it your visit here has nothing to do with the possible haunting that I asked your father to investigate." Dean kind of admired that – straight to the punch.

"No, sir." Dean felt the first blush of heat as he handed Cummings the pink communication slip.

Cummings read it and then quirked an eye in Dean's direction. "I take it Mr. Bainesworth is accurate in his account of what happened?"

"I don't know, sir. I didn't read the slip."

"Shall I?" Dean really didn't want to hear it again but Cummings had obviously decided that a review of his crimes was warranted. " Well, according to Mr. Bainesworth you used the expletive 'fuck' and then went on to say he was the only person in the class who did not know where to 'stick his dick.'"

Dean did blush furiously then. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

"Uh, Old Bainesworth has a pretty good memory huh?" The scowl that Cummings delivered quickly had Dean amending the comment. "Sir."

Cummings stood and trailed his hands along the desk walking toward Dean purposefully all animal languid and deadly.

"We have a problem here, Dean." Cummings began his voice low and cultured and unmistakably no nonsense.

"You and your father and your brother are here at my request. You are doing a job for me and for that I am appreciative. You are also, however, a student in my school. Not to mention the son of a man I think very highly of. Your dad and I discussed your unique situation prior to your enrollment here and he assured me that you would be able to blend in with the other students. He expected you to do your job with professionalism and respect. It appears that he was a bit ambitious with his praise."

Dean dropped his eyes and studied what looked to be a very expensive rug at his feet. _Praise from his father?_ His entire face had to be on fire.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I'm sure you are but that doesn't solve our dilemma. You see, Dean, you were sent here for disciplinary measures and the behavior indicated by Mr. Bainesworth, goes against the very mission statement of Ashford. Not to mention that by getting yourself sent to me, you have managed tie my hands so to speak. It will be expected that you walk out of this office with a physical reminder that this type of behavior will not be tolerated at Ashford. Mrs. McCurdy out there, "Cummings nodded toward the door, "is a very astute woman and has been the secretary here for over twenty years. She is very aware of what goes on in here and she will notice if it doesn't. Do you understand me Dean?"

Dean nodded. It couldn't be that bad. He was John Winchester's boy, he had been spanked by the best.

"Dean." Cummings prompted gently.

"Yes, sir. I'm aware."

"Well, then, let's get this over with." Cummings gestured toward one of the chairs. "Our bigger boys tend to do better bending over that."

Dean gulped and headed to the chair. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cummings pick up a strap that must have been sitting behind his desk.

Much like Bainesworth, Cummings allowed him to get into position and then flipped that dreaded blue jacket up over his ass. However, unlike Bainesworth, Dean had the very real impression that Cummings was going to make sure that this didn't happen again. Dean got the feeling the man was like his Dad. If he decided that a whipping was going to happen, he was going to make sure he gave it is his best. Despite the fact that the man had a good ten years on his dad, he looked like he was at least as fit and Dean was pretty sure he would remember this for a while.

The first smack burned a blazing trail from one cheek to the next. It was quickly followed by another two hot strokes. The man was like an automaton, carefully laying one stripe below the previous one. He obviously had a lot of experience whipping boys asses, Dean thought wryly.

It hurt like a scalding brand to his ass. Dean could barley maintain his position over the chair. He literally jumped on the fourth stroke, almost standing up in a futile effort to get away.

"Settle, Dean. You've two more and I will give you extra if you don't keep your position."

That cleared it up for Dean. He did not want anymore of this man's arm action than necessary.

The last two strokes were just as hard as the first four and Dean bit off a yelp when the last one landed carefully across his battered rump. But he didn't move until Cummings gave him the okay.

Dean stood shakily and allowed the jacket to fall over his ass. Just the touch of additional fabric made him cringe.

"I will contact your father and make him aware that this had to happen, Dean. I hope that the next time I see you, it will be under much more pleasant circumstances. "

"Yes, sir." It was all he could grind out without crying so it was what he said.

"If you need a moment to collect yourself, feel free. Otherwise you may return to class."

Dean sniffled once, picked up his book bag and walked out of the office doing his best not to appear as uncomfortable as he felt.

He had the rest of the day to get through including Bainesworth at last period. The thought of those hard chairs made his butt cheeks clench but there was nothing he could do about it.

Then it occurred to him that he also had gym today right after lunch. It couldn't get much worse.

xxx

Changing in the locker room never bothered Dean. He had a great body and personal nudity never had been an issue, but today it was hard. There was no way that everyone had not heard about Dean's trip to the Headmaster and even if they hadn't the bright red stripes on his ass would have given it away.

There was an appreciative whistle when he stepped out of his khakis into his gym uniform. _Today was not the day to have gone commando_. "So Winchester, ol Cummings really nailed you huh?" It was Riley Cooper, the striker for the Ashford's soccer team. Cooper was an okay kid but that didn't mean that Dean wanted to discuss any of it.

"Yeah, Cooper, he did. My ass wasn't born this shade of red."

"Impressive, dude." Cooper noted.

"No it wasn't Cooper, it was stupid." A low rumble echoed through the locker room.

Dean almost jumped when he heard his father's voice.

Cooper mumbled an apologetic, "Sorry, sir," and turned away from the coach, dutifully lacing up his cleats.

There was no way his father hadn't noticed the bright red stripes on Dean's normally lily-white ass.

"Boys – I want you out on the soccer field in five." John' s voice reverberated through the locker room. Not loud but every boy heard it, "Cooper you start by running the drills I'll be there shortly. Dean, with me."

Dean didn't even hear the normal cat-calls as he finished dressing. He could almost read the collective thoughts of his gym class. It was bad enough having been sent to Cummings office, worse that your father was the gym teacher and wanted to see you in his office before you even made it home.

Dean finished dressing as slowly as possible trying to put off the inevitable. It wasn't possible though so he headed up the steps to his father' s office. The door was open and Dean slunk in as quietly as he could.

"Shut the door."

_Great._ Dean complied with the order and then stood in front of his father. It was the Winchester version of attention and truthfully any DI would have been proud to say that his recruit stood so still.

John rubbed a weary hand over the perpetual scruff on his chin. He walked around his desk and then behind Dean. Dean heard his father from over his right shoulder but didn't move a muscle.

"Are we having some kind of communication problem, son?" His father's voice was deceptively mild.

"No, sir."

"I find that hard to believe, because no Winchester boy that I know would be so blatantly stupid with regard to ignoring my orders." Dad had made a complete circle around Dean and was coming back around to the front.

Dean saw his father out of his peripheral and then glanced at him as he stepped up to stand between Dean and the desk.

That wasn't a question though so Dean just continued to stare straight ahead. It was difficult in any case, his father was a mere two inches from his face and glowering down on him. At least he wasn't yelling.

"Well then, can you tell me what's going on here?" John was circling behind him again.

_Damn questions._

"I…I just don't like Bainesworth."

His father shot him an uncomprehending look from Dean's left shoulder, "So that's your excuse? You don't like your fucking teacher?"

"It does sound a little lame when you put it that way." Dean met his father's eyes and tried for a roguish smile but dropped it when he saw the John Winchester's dark scowl.

"Dean, do I have to remind you that we are on a job? We are _working._ Not to mention the disturbing fact that a man that has saved my ass more than once has found it necessary to spank yours?"

"'M sorry, Dad." Dean hung his head, a perfect example of contrite boy.

"So, how are we going to handle this, son? If what I saw in that locker room is any indication of your ass, I'm not so sure me walloping you again is in any one's best interest."

For the first time Dean offered a genuine smile, "I appreciate that, Dad"

"Don't get yourself too excited, Dean, you are in no way off the hook." John stopped for a moment and seemed to consider Dean. "Two hundred and fifty crunches."

"Right now?"

John waggled a brow and pointed to the floor in front of the desk. Dean hit the dirt.

"Count 'em off."

Dean would later think that his father chose crunches instead of push-ups just to aggravate his already tender butt.

xxx

By the fourth week at Ashford, it was obvious there was no ghost. It was Sam who figured it out. It turned out a bunch of smart sixth graders with a computer and a grudge could do some serious damage. It was a rude awakening for his father and Headmaster Cummings. While both men were a force to be reckoned with in many ways, they were more than little slow on the uptake when it came to technology.

Wisely, neither Sam nor Dean decided to remark on their shortcomings.

Sam wasn't all that happy about leaving Ashford, but it was clear to Dean that he wasn't to upset either. It had always been short-term gig and Sam did better with change if he knew about it ahead of time. Plus having been the person who figured out the case put a feather in his cap. "Well Dean, it wasn't a complete bust…I've got a month's worth of ammo to use against you." Sam waved a picture of Dean in his Ashford uniform in front of his face. When the kid had managed to take that one? Dean couldn't begin to know. "This jacket alone has been worth the price of admission." Sam held up the dreaded blue jacket in his other hand and tossed it on the bed with a grin.

"Don't worry little brother. You hold on to those memories okay, 'cause that jacket and all the rest of this damn uniform is not gonna touch this fine ass again."

Sam smiled broadly. The kid surely loved it when he could find a way to torment his big brother. Dean really didn't mind because brotherhood was a two way street and just because Sam had the upper hand right now, it in no way shape or form meant it was going to stay that way.

"Well, I think it's a fine jacket, Dean. Who knows when we will be able to use it again? Waste not want not right?"

"Oh don't worry, Sam. That jacket is never gonna see the light of day." Dean picked up the jacket and dumped it in the metal trash can in their room. Then there was the familiar sound of Dean's zippo.

"We salt and burn evil shit don't we?"

end.


End file.
